


I See Fire

by hereweshallmeetagain



Category: Sherlock (TV), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Gen, pre and post The Hobbit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 22:13:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2789576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hereweshallmeetagain/pseuds/hereweshallmeetagain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His last memory was of falling. Below was fire. The lake, below, is on fire. Then there was darkness.<br/>Oh, but a voice called out from the darkness. A lifeline he reached out to and followed through.<br/>Past time and space, till he came out on the other side.</p><p>When Sherlock Holmes woke up, he didn't feel like himself, and he had memories that were not his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I See Fire

**Author's Note:**

> I made this last year after watching The Desolation of Smaug. Never got to post it. Found it while digging through the reference materials for a LOTR/XMFC AU. Decided to polish it a bit and post. 
> 
> This piece was mainly inspired by the song 'I See Fire' by Ed Sheeran (more information at the end).

* * *

 

Once upon a time, the Urulóki was the most powerful among the army of the Black King Morgoth. That time was long past. When the Black King was banished to the Void, gone was the age of the dragons.

Once upon the time, he and his siblings roamed the Northern Land, in the place where no elf nor man nor dwarf dared to set foot, where the last of the mighty dragons dwelled. That eventually changed. The youngsters no longer had the drive, no power, none of the hungers and craving for hoard that the old race had. They were content with picking out the random foolish orcs that wandered into the land.

Once upon a time, there were many of them, the soldiers, the winged-drakes, the creatures of fire and magic and darkness. Wars and infighting had claimed the old ones, and lethargy claimed the young ones.

He was Smaug, the last living child of [Ancalagon the Black](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dragon_%28Middle-earth%29#Ancalagon_the_Black). He did not, would not bow to the power of men, or elves, or dwarfs. Especially not to one coward of a black servant. Smaug would leave the waste land and his weak kin behind to rule his own kingdom.

With that in mind, he flew towards the Lonely Mountain.

 

* * *

 

His last memory was of falling. Below was fire. The lake and the city below were on fire. Then there was darkness.

Oh, but a voice called out from the darkness. A lifeline he reached out to and followed through.

Past time and space, till he came out on the other side.

 

* * *

 

He opened his eyes, and found himself in the morgue. What is a morgue or how did he know that it was, that was not important. The knowledge laid somewhere beyond his reach. Something else was demanding attention, though…

He was lying on the autopsy table. The lamps in the room were mostly off, except the one above the table in the corner. He sat, a little bit dizzy. Someone stood near the door, hiding on the shadows created by the bright light from the hallway and the partially-opened door. A stranger. Yet his mind's eye telling him that a stranger he was not.

Fire, burn as bright and hot as his own. Twin to his own. Blood and kin.

" _Ashfer 1)._"

"Was Ashfer. It's Rowan Holmes now."

Rowan Holmes. Sounds familiar. Like... family. Rowan Holmes, brother to one Sherlock Holmes.

And with it, came a lifetime of memories; of childhood, of days when nothing matters, of days when things were different.

Of falling. The scent of burned wood and cotton and flesh. Iron. Blood and carnage. Ash and liquid metals. Claws and fangs and Fire. Death.

"Sherlock!"

Hands framed his face, and his brother-- _his brother's_ face, blurred, so close.

"It is not your fault, Sherlock. _Not yours_. _He_ is not you. Not anymore."

He didn't, couldn't say a thing. The tears would not stop, however.

"You are Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective." His brother said gently. "The first and probably the only one in the world. Smaug will always be a part of you, but he is not who you are anymore."

 

* * *

 

"In short, I did manage to keep some knowledge of the art. Enough to know some things that happened to Middle-Earth. Also just enough to keep Molly from full-blown panic when things didn't go on as planned."

He rubbed the side of his head. Crusts of dried blood flaked off. "So I did fell from the roof." He mused.

"Missed the landing, though." His brother threw him a wet towel from his place next to the sink. He used it to clean the blood from his face.

"Must've died on the spot, if your description of Molly's reaction was correct."

"Rather messy, if I may add. I'd suggest shower, but we need to leave soon, so make do with that."

"Moriarty?"

"Dead."

"For real?"

"I may have done something to ensure that he will stay that way."

"Something I'd better off not knowing?"

"If you wanted to claim plausible deniability."

Done with his face, he used the other, still clean side of the towel on his hair. They were a bit tangled and sticky.

“Don’t rub too hard on it.” His brother said. “The wound has not fully healed yet.”

He nodded absently, then asked the one question that still burned inside. “John?”

“At home. Mycroft’s minions are dealing with him.”

“Good.”

The next couple of minutes were filled with silence. He broke it first.

"This happened to you. When you were fourteen. The accident with Father. You actually died then."

His brother did not reply and that confirmed it.

"You changed after that." He mused. "You took up music, but you discard the piano practice. You took classic guitar lessons. You left home to stay with your musician friends."

Still no reply. His brother came to him, took the towel from his dirty hands, and started helping him cleaning the spots he missed.

"I went to see you on stage once."

"You did? When?" His brother asked, surprised.

"Couldn't remember exactly when. You sat in the middle, playing your guitar, surrounded by your band mates. You were singing something about fire2), and everyone present seemed very entranced."

His brother smiled slightly. "Ah, I remember that one."

"I thought you belong there. In the stage. Did wonder why you didn't continue with it."

"Me? A professional singer?" His brother chuckled, his dimples showing as he did. "Music helped me focus. I needed it back then. Not as much now. You got used to it eventually.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the touch; the closeness that hadn't been there for years.

"Tell me how it ended."

His brother's hands didn't even pause as he replied with a questioning hum. He opened his eyes and looked closely into his brother's clear green eyes.

"Tell me." Half asking, half pleading.

Those green eyes are calm, betraying nothing. "It ends beautiful," Its owner said quietly. "On its own time." Then, with different, lighter tone, "And none of our business, of course.” He threw the dirty towel to the sink. “Now get up, we need to leave. Here, use my parka. Leave your coat on the table for the mourners to admire."

"Bossy git."

"I'm a branch head now. I have the privilege of autocracy. Hurry up."

“Tut-tut. You’re beginning to sound like Mycroft.”

“I will impersonate Mycroft if it meant you will make haste.”

“That would be—“

He did not manage to finish his sentence. For a moment, the world had gone dark, and fire raced through his veins. A voice called out from far away, familiar and questioning, ‘Who?’

When the world returned to normal, his brother was massaging his temple. “Two of you in one day.” He muttered. “I’ll never make it back to HQ now.”

“Mycroft?”

“At the moment, _Tyr 3)_. He grew wings, would you believe that? I had to knock him out just now.”

“Mycroft. Have wings.”

“Is it so hard to believe? I did heal your wounds with magic, after all.”

“Interesting. I wonder my ability would be.”

“Later. Now, change of plan. We must go to Mycroft’s residence.” Upon seeing his frown of disapproval, his brother continued. “Think of it this way. Whatever ability you have, you’ll be able to test it by destroying Mycroft’s house.”

The suggestion brought a smile to his face.

“That, brother, is why I always like you better than Mycroft. You have better ideas.”

 

 

THE END

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Tyr, Smaug and Ashfer was the greatest among the sons of Ancalagon the Black.  
> 1) Ashfer hoarded magic. He was way too curious for his own good and wanted to know elven magic. He was not above poking and killing elves to find out their secrets. He was killed by Thranduil, Legolas’ father some time in the Second Age.  
> 3) Tyr was the king of the dragons. After The War of Wrath, he brought those who were still alive to the land beyond Ered Mithrim/Grey Mountains. He was wounded badly after a confrontation with the dwarves and died some time later-on the beginning of the Third Age. Tolkien Gateway mentioned that out of seven Dwarf-rings, four of them were swallowed/destroyed by dragons. That was Tyr's doing.
> 
> 2) Try imagine Ben Whishaw sitting on a stage singing 'I See Fire'. That's how I imagine it. Teenage Q/Rowan Holmes, with memories of past lives of a dragon and none of the greed, cunning or maliciousness. Also there was his magic, which allowed him to 'see' Smaug in Sherlock and Tyr in Mycroft. In addition to that, Q can also 'see' some things that happened in Middle-Earth. What he did see was the end of his brothers. Being a dragon, Ashfer may not have much affection for his siblings, but Q, despite the unconventional upbringing of the Holmeses, loved his brothers. 
> 
> The song 'I See Fire' might be written for human/dwarfs POV. Mostly Thorin/Fili/Kili. But I think some phrases do fit my version of Smaug. 
> 
> If this is to end in fire, then we shall all burn together,  
> Watch the flames climb higher, into the night.  
> Calling out father oh, stand by and we will watch the flames burn auburn on the mountainside.
> 
> And if we should die tonight we should all die together.  
> Raise a glass of wine for the last time.  
> Calling out father oh, prepare as we will watch the flames burn auburn on the mountainside.  
> Desolation comes upon the sky.
> 
> Smaug was 'the greatest fire-breathing dragon of the Third Age'. As mentioned in Tolkien Gateway, Gandalf told Frodo that _"there is not now any dragon left on earth in which the old fire is hot enough [to melt the Rings of Power]._ " That implied that Smaug was something of a 'special breed'. What could be more special than the spawn of _the greatest and mightiest of all dragons, and the first of the winged ‘fire-drakes'_?  
>  The same with Ashfer, Smaug might not feel much for his sibling or father. Not much love, perhaps, but pride? Lots. If one has to die, one will go with a bang, not a whimper; ergo the flames and desolation. Let us not forget the toast (Raise a glass of wine), something along the lines of 'hey dad see what I did' and 'fuck you middle-earth'.
> 
> And if the night is burning I will cover my eyes,  
> For if the dark returns then my brothers will die.  
> And as the sky is falling down it crashed into this lonely town.  
> And with that shadow ‘pon the ground I hear my people screaming out.
> 
> Now, that part of lyric fits Ashfer/Q Holmes. He died in the hands of Thranduil, by no one's fault but his. Knowing your siblings will die was something, but actually see and not being able to do a thing? Teenage Q was too nice for his own good. He grieved for two powerful, dangerous, greedy, cunning, seductive and malicious beings that were Ashfer's siblings.
> 
> I planned this piece to be longer and involved Mycroft, but I don't feel like working on it anymore. Better to post than let it collecting dust.


End file.
